


The Thin Man's Lament

by fangirlingovermishacollins



Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Not-So-Sweet Revenge, POV The Thin Man, Regrets, Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, The Thin Man Wants To Change His Fate, The Thin Man is Protective Over Mono
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 05:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30017160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlingovermishacollins/pseuds/fangirlingovermishacollins
Summary: The blackness behind his eyelids blocked out any and all coherent thoughts, encouraging the Thin Man to join its endless depths for good. Why had he thought hurting Six wouldn't affect Mono? What had he been thinking?All he'd wanted was to save himself. How foolish of him. Not everybody could be saved, especially not Mono. He would defeat his future self, he would return Six to her normal size, he would run from the flesh that was waiting to deplete his untrained power, he would be held above the pit of eyes, and he would be dropped. Just like every Mono before him.The cycle would continue, and the Thin Man's efforts—and every Thin Man's efforts before this one—would go to waste. Mono wasn't going to be swayed. He was too determined to give up, too, so he wouldn't throw in the towel.Hopelessness, along with despair, was a funny thing to feel in your last moments, the Thin Man decided. No fight left in you, no motivation to fight for your life.
Relationships: Mono & Six (Little Nightmares)
Kudos: 49





	The Thin Man's Lament

The Thin Man could feel Mono's presence. The child was lying on the ground in the forest in front of the television; he was disoriented momentarily—it would have been easy to emerge from the screen and pluck him up before he got to his feet, subsequently saving Mono from himself.

That is, if the door keeping the Thin Man from the world outside the Transmission had been open.

As it was presently, he was helpless to change his fate.

He could do nothing but rely on the weak connection he had to the boy, diminished along with a large portion of his powers as a result of falling victim to the Transmission. If he tried hard enough, he could smell, see, feel, and hear what Mono could—but that was the extent of his reach.

He hadn't smiled in what felt like forever; to be honest, he'd never even had a reason to smile. Betrayal and hatred were his only friends, and they had been ever since _she_ let go of him and threw him to the void of animate flesh and forever-seeing eyes.

The feeling of the brown paper bag rustling against his—Mono's—ear, however, filled the Thin Man with something reminiscent of nostalgia. The good kind of nostalgia. It was a feeling of innocence, of not knowing what the world would do to someone young and compassionate.

Mono had the whole world at his feet. The Thin Man missed that: the thought that he would carve his own path and live his life, he would take down the source of the Transmission and bring light to an otherwise dark, colorless place.

But _she_ had to be saved, didn't she? The Thin Man didn't blame Mono for wanting to help another child; he knew better than Mono himself that the boy was selfless by default. He'd been in Mono's shoes an eternity ago.

No, the blame rested on _her_ —Six. Every time the Thin Man thought about Six, he was filled with a rage so intense it was palpable in the air. It shattered television screens and made Viewers do terrible, unspeakable things for one small, fleeting glimpse of the screens that were still in one piece.

It had scared the Thin Man at first. He'd been so overcome with raw power, amplified by strong, powerful emotions, and with the last Thin Man gone, he'd taken his place. Inexperienced with the Transmission, he'd let loose a scream of hurt and anger directed at a girl who was a more than safe distance away. He ended up inadvertently causing the gory, painful deaths of three women and two men, all crowded around an apartment watching the Transmission.

He had decided to not scream anymore after that incident.

The flesh whispered in his ear with no real mouth not long after; they coaxed him with snakelike manipulations to not let his power go to waste. With another force guiding him, the Thin Man (Mono at the time; he hadn't yet taken on a new name) turned on every television in a city block at once.

More deaths followed. The flesh made an effort to lift his spirits, it said they were doomed from the start and there was absolutely nothing he could have done to change that fact. It said he couldn't give up on his black, shriveled-up heart. The Thin Man told himself that for days, weeks, months, maybe even years, until he believed it.

And soon enough, the thought of people losing their lives didn't get to him in any way. There were times he revelled in it, in fact, spurred on by his constant companions and insistent desire to get back at a certain girl wearing a yellow raincoat.

He watched the world through Mono's eyes until Mono made his way to the Hunter's basement. The Thin Man was unable to watch his younger self extend a hand to help Six off the floor, the simple gesture full of kindness. If he became a witness to the childishly sweet scene... he couldn't even finish the thought; there were no words to convey his raging emotions. The only things keeping him from losing his temper were his fraying patience and the sweet, tantalizing promise of putting her through hell in a television.

Feeling Mono run through the hallway beyond the screen to the Thin Man's closed door for the first time filled him with dark anticipation. His tether to Mono grew stronger with every step the boy took, and he was so close to being freed that he could taste it...

Until the bond unique to the Thin Man and Mono abruptly faded away, and a single word pierced his mind— _Six_. She had to interfere. He took a deep breath and, moving in sync with his mood, the flesh inflated with his inhale and deflated as he exhaled.

Another deep breath followed. Patience was necessary, he chastized himself. Mono would open the door the third time he entered the television; all he had to do was get through another frustrating letdown on Six's behalf, and he had no choice but to wait. 

To pass the time, the Thin Man allowed himself a glimpse of the outside world. Mono was getting to his feet, having landed on his back when Six forcibly pulled him out. He subtly adjusted the brown paper bag he wore, ensuring he could see through the eyeholes, and stepped a safe distance away. Six, waiting for Mono to lead her onwards, stood off to the side, just in his peripheral vision. The bright yellow of her raincoat was an immediate attention grabber; the Thin Man prayed to a god he no longer believed in that Mono would turn his head to face her fully. He wanted a good, long look at Mono's betrayer-to-be.

Mono, coincidentally, did exactly that. An inhuman staticky sound filled the air as the Thin Man hummed appreciatively, studying Six as if he was picking apart every aspect of the girl for future reference when he got her alone. She looked the same as he remembered—dark hair hanging over part of her face and partially obscuring her eyesight, her hands hanging limp at her sides, appearing so childlike that it was hard to believe they were the hands that would sentence a friend to a fate worse than death.

The Thin Man wished he had died after his drop, but he'd quickly figured out that Mono would be his killer—only Mono. At first, he'd tried to end his own life; the constant surveillance and unnerving analysis he was under intertwined with his sorrow and despair, coupled with the torment of having his power leeched from his body, was enough to crush his spirits and make him beg for the sweet release of death.

His attempt failed. It turned out that while he was Mono, _another_ Mono had to finish the job. He couldn't do it on his own.

Memories of his failure flashed behind his eyelids. The eyes that never let the Thin Man out of sight seemed amused and faux-apologetic, like they weren't sorry he was still alive but tried (and failed) to act the part anyway.

The teasing and amusement at the Thin Man's expense stopped when he started to grow up. Having realized that he was more than a mere child, the eyes began to regard him as an equal, and then a leader.

Sometimes, he still wished he could end his miserable existence.

The Thin Man braced his hands against the glass inside the television when Mono finally opened the door and let him out. Six was poised for danger; she motioned for Mono to _stay still and don't move,_ but he had other ideas.

As if he felt the connection between them, Mono carefully rose to his feet and lifted an arm to the screen, moving forward ever so slightly. He moved back, though, and rushed to catch up with Six, who'd started to run, and the Thin Man flicked to life in the room.

He was going to catch one of the children, he knew it, and he hoped for it to be Six. If he stole her away from Mono, the boy would have no choice but to forge ahead on his own, break the cycle he was caught in, and escape the Signal Tower. If he ended up picking Mono up, however, that wouldn't be the worst thing. He could drop him off far, far away from his ally, and have Six all to himself.

Either way, Mono was _not_ leaving that building with Six in tow.

The affirmation motivated the Thin Man and he started to move with long strides and a flickering visage. The sounds of two pairs of running feet moving away from him was music to his ears.

The pair entered the abandoned child's bedroom, and Six slid into place beneath a table; she was almost too visible to anyone who walked in. Mono was smarter than Six, opting to duck under the bed. When the Thin Man appeared in the doorway, Six caught his eye and stumbled onto the center of the room. She cried out for Mono, but—much to the Thin Man's pleased surprise—Mono remained in place, watching her get ripped away from him and replaced by a Glitching Remain.

As he left Mono alone to deal with the abduction of his friend, the Thin Man pondered: what would he do to Six? What would hurt her the most? She cared about Mono enough, but the Thin Man didn't want to punish himself for a fatal mistake she'd made.

He thought back to the childrens' first meeting, wishing he hadn't stubbornly refused to tune out of Mono's head earlier. All he had to draw on was his own experience with her, but it had been decades; centuries, even—how much would he be able to remember?

She had a music box, the Thin Man suddenly recalled. That would be perfect. Six dropped him into a pit made up of nightmares, so why didn't he put her into a nightmare he'd cooked up specially for her? And he would turn one of her prized possessions against her in the process.

It would be perfect. Six kicked and screamed for Mono, but the Thin Man paid her no mind. She could cry out for help that would never come all she wanted, and no matter how hard she struggled, she was no match against him.

The Thin Man smugly picked up the pace to his and Six's next destination. He even managed to feel a pang of pride. He was 'taking care of' Six and saving himself from a hell he knew all too well. If he hadn't been so out of practice doing it, he would have smiled.

Mono fell for the trap the Thin Man set for him. He saw Six, instantly went to help her, and now he was emerging from the runaway traincar clutching his side, obviously in pain but refusing to let it slow him down.

The reason he'd set up Six as bait, the Thin Man admitted, was as simple as him wanting Mono to realize he was going to lose the person who'd inevitably leave him behind at the finish line. He drove the point home when he'd pulled her back and placed her in her custom-made, personalized little nightmare, transforming her into a disfigured monster dependent on a song coming from a kids' toy.

Mono would never get through to the girl now. She was a raging monster who'd dug her own grave.

Despite his victory, though, the Thin Man only felt mildly vindicated. On one hand, Six was a stranger and a hopeless cause; on the other... Mono was still trying to help her. He'd wear himself down to the point of exhaustion trying to get her back. How could the Thin Man do that to himself? He'd felt the boy's pain and desperation once too. It had been one of the worst things he'd ever experienced. She was a friend to him!

Regret made itself comfortable in the vicinity of his chest, an unfamiliar and foreign sensation. He stood in front of Mono in the street, rain pounding the asphalt beneath their feet, trying to make Mono _stop_ , gesturing for Mono to pause his constant assault. He had to explain why he'd done what he'd done, but Mono had had enough. More than enough, in fact—he was using his up-until-recently latent power to repel the Thin Man, and he'd have none of the villain's excuses.

It hurt. It hurt worse than Six's betrayal, it hurt worse than the torment he'd endured at the hands of the Transmission, it hurt worse than all the loneliness he'd felt in his life _combined._ Was this how the Thin Man's victims felt at the beginning, when he'd screamed? The strength Mono was displaying was overpowering.

He was being weakened again, and again, and again... death was coming for him. And as much as he'd wished to die in the past, the feeling of slowly being killed was anything but an acceptable method of granting the wish. Mono was angry, it had shown from the start when he'd removed his paper bag and let it drift away in a puddle, but his anger was as strong as the Thin Man's had been upon seeing Six after so long.

All the Thin Man wanted at this point was to tell Mono that Six wasn't one to be trusted. If he could get a single word out, he could go to his grave content to have at least tried.

But he couldn't open his mouth. He could only succumb to Mono's attacks over and over, the city fading in and out of his field of vision while rain drenched his battered body...

Unable to stand tall, no longer the villain of the story but an unfortunate victim, whose demise would be for nothing...

The blackness behind his eyelids blocked out any and all coherent thoughts, encouraging the Thin Man to join its endless depths for good. Why had he thought hurting Six wouldn't affect Mono? What had he been thinking?

All he'd wanted was to save himself. How foolish of him. Not everybody could be saved, especially not Mono. He would defeat his future self, he would return Six to her normal size, he would run from the flesh that was waiting to deplete his untrained power, he would be held above the pit of eyes, and he would be dropped. Just like every Mono before him.

The cycle would continue, and the Thin Man's efforts—and every Thin Man's efforts before this one—would go to waste. Mono wasn't going to be swayed. He was too determined to give up, too, so he wouldn't throw in the towel.

Hopelessness, along with despair, was a funny thing to feel in your last moments, the Thin Man decided. No fight left in you, no motivation to fight for your life. Just a willingness to walk into Death's waiting embrace. The Thin Man wondered—his final thought before everything permanently faded to black and the last tendrils of life left his body—if Death was as intimidating as he himself had been in his prime.


End file.
